


Aftermath

by RicochetRomance



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Chubby Anakin, Fallen Jedi AU, Fluff and Humor, Food as a Metaphor for Love, M/M, Mild Angst, Rated to be Safe, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Weight Gain, chubby Obi-wan, obikin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-02
Updated: 2019-04-02
Packaged: 2020-01-01 02:27:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18326813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RicochetRomance/pseuds/RicochetRomance
Summary: "In the aftermath of the Jedi Order, the two men weren’t merely alive – they were alive and free."Please note that this is weight gain fanfiction - reader discretion is advised.





	Aftermath

**Author's Note:**

> This AU was inspired by a Generation Tech video that examines the flaws of the Jedi Order, and an amazing song by Bebe Rexha. 
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q1vm14itYz8  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6qn-I563yWc

Sparring with his former master was becoming an increasingly rare event, and Anakin took the time to thoroughly appreciate Obi-Wan's altered form. 

His thick thighs practically squeezed past one another with each measured step, and the soft flesh of his arms quivered with each practiced movement of his lightsaber. Even his stance had changed - the older man was leaning backwards to compensate for the sheer mass of his bulging belly. 

In short, Obi-Wan's form was a study in lethality tempered by decadence, and it was kriffing glorious. 

It was kriffing glorious, but that wasn't about to stop Anakin from having a little fun at his expense.

"You're getting pudgy, old man," Anakin taunted, a confident smirk on his face as he surged forward to close the gap between their blades.

Confidence had always been Anakin's greatest weakness, and once again, that weakness reared its ugly head. Obi-Wan stepped deftly to the younger man's left, effortlessly deflecting the blow. As Anakin overbalanced, the momentum of his attack carrying him forward, his former master disarmed him with a simple flick of the wrist. 

"Have you looked in a mirror lately?" Obi-Wan retorted, taking advantage of Anakin's disoriented state to grasp and squeeze a soft handful of his former padawan's own prominent belly.

"Hey!" Anakin yelped indignantly, reddening at the contact. 

It was true, of course. His girth was easily a match for Obi-Wan's own, though their shapes differed considerably - while the majority of the older man's weight had settled in his massive belly and thick thighs, a considerable amount of Anakin's own had settled in his broad hips, padding out his ass to frankly obscene proportions.

It was true, of course, but Anakin would never admit it. 

In the aftermath of the fall of the Jedi Order, so much had changed. A corrupt organization mired in corrupted ideals had crumbled beneath its own hypocrisy, a gradual decline with a swift and violent conclusion.

The few surviving Jedi had been left without purpose or direction, but Anakin had managed to find stability with his former master - Obi-Wan Kenobi, the impossibly charismatic and impossibly handsome man whom he'd loved since the day he was knighted. Now freed from the strictures of the Order, the two men had been able to indulge all of the feelings that had developed between them over the decade they'd spent as partners.

However, their newfound stability had presented a myriad of complications – only some of which were evident to the naked eye.

Obi-Wan extinguished his lightsaber, holstering it at his hip. Anakin reached to reclaim his own disarmed weapon from his former master’s other hand, only for the older man to take advantage of their closeness to give Anakin's belly another teasing squeeze. 

Much to the younger man's mortification, his stomach chose that moment to growl, loudly and impatiently protesting the fact that he hadn't eaten in hours.

"I don't suppose you're hungry?" Obi-Wan inquired, his tone falsely innocent. Anakin remained stubbornly silent, but his stomach answered for him, uttering another thunderous growl.

"Yes, you definitely haven't eaten enough today," his former master concluded, smirking triumphantly. 

"Because unlike you, I actually have self-control!" Anakin retorted hotly. His waistline clearly proved this statement to be a blatant lie, but there was only so much teasing that he was willing to endure in one sitting. 

"In that case," Obi-Wan observed, "it seems that I'll be dining at Dex's alone tonight." The older man smoothly turned to leave, intending to make another one of his notoriously dramatic exits. Anakin, however, was having exactly none of it. 

"As if I'd let you." He reached out and caught Obi-Wan's arm, pulling him into an exasperated but fond embrace. 

It wasn't a failure of self-control, Anakin reasoned. Someone needed to be there to ensure the older man actually ate a balanced meal - when Obi-Wan dined alone, he would often overindulge his prominent sweet tooth, sometimes eating entire meals that consisted only of chocolate cake and milkshakes. 

Besides, Dex had added a few new flavors to the ice-cream buffet over the weekend. Just a taste wouldn't hurt. 

Obi-Wan could easily sense his former padawan's intentions through their bond, which in recent years had blossomed from a mere training aid into a truly intimate connection. "Of course it won't, dear heart," he concurred, hiding his amused smirk by pressing a gentle kiss to Anakin's lips. 

He knew full well the younger man would never stop at a single taste, and looked forward to watching Anakin's façade of self-denial crumble in the face of even the slightest temptation - just as it did every night. 

"Of course it won't."

-

Dex had no sympathy for the Jedi, not after the dark secrets of their vaunted Order had been revealed. Kidnapping infants and erasing the memories of their parents, indoctrinating initiates with a dogma of detachment and inhibition, training children to fight as soldiers on worlds that weren't their own -

No, the Jedi Order could fry on Mustafar for all that he cared. 

The Besalisk absentmindedly polished an empty glass, keeping one eye on the door of his diner. Technically, the drones he’d constructed could run the entire establishment by themselves, but there was something to be said for a more personal approach to business management.

Besides, watching the comings and goings of his customers never ceased to be fascinating.

Dex did, however, have sympathy for Obi-Wan - and by extension, for Obi-Wan's young lover. Kenobi had remained untouched by the Order's corruption throughout his tenure, had survived as perhaps the only truly innocent Jedi. 

After those secrets had been revealed, no Jedi could hope find employment in civilized space. Not wanting Obi-Wan to starve, but knowing that there was little else he could realistically do without jeopardizing the diner's reputation, the Besalisk had made his longtime friend a simple offer.

For as long as his establishment remained open, the two men could eat for free - as much as they wanted, as often as they wanted. 

It was an offer that the pair had taken advantage of almost immediately, and Dex found himself both pleased and amused by their eagerness. So many humans lived their entire lives half-starved, denying themselves the true pleasure of overindulgence, but Obi-Wan and his lover had grown gloriously fat off of the Besalisk's cooking. 

Call it a point of personal pride - his establishment served food so delicious that it could tear down even the legendary inhibitions of a former Jedi.

The bell above the transparisteel door chimed brightly, as the two men in question swaggered into the diner. It often seemed that their soft bodies were growing softer with each passing night, and tonight was no exception.

Dex could have sworn that yesterday, Obi-Wan’s prematurely greying beard had still managed to partially conceal his second chin. He could also have sworn that Anakin’s broad leather belt hadn’t constricted his generous belly even half that tightly.

Seeing them now, no-one would ever guess that the two men had once been Jedi, and quite frankly it was safer that way.

-

Settling into their booth was easier said than done, both men having to squeeze their soft bodies into an uncomfortably confined space. Obi-Wan endured the process without complaint, but his former padawan had never been the type to withhold his opinions, however uncharitable.

“I swear Dex keeps making these booths smaller,” Anakin complained, his tone verging on petulant. The younger man wriggled uncomfortably in his seat, trying to find a position that didn’t cause the edge of the table to press between the soft rolls of his stomach. Unsurprisingly, he had little success.

“Yes Anakin,” his former master’s tone dripped with sarcasm. “He’s been renovating purely to spite you.”

Dex hadn’t renovated the diner even once in the nineteen years that Obi-Wan had known him – as usual, the depths of the younger man’s stubborn denial were astounding.

One of the establishment’s drones swung by to take their order, and the older man took advantage of Anakin’s distraction to ensure that today’s meal would be particularly large and indulgent, featuring several of his lover’s favorite dishes. He’d never admit it, but there was something amusing about watching the younger man’s predicament grow steadily more absurd.

A few more months of generous meals, and he doubted that either himself or Anakin would be able to fit into one of these booths. His former padawan’s justification was sure to be an astounding leap of logic.

The Jedi Order had heavily restricted the diets of its members. Generous portions had never been available, and none of their meals had tasted substantially better than the average ration bar. Such massive servings of such delicious foods were among the most pleasurable of their newfound freedoms. As with their freedom of affection, the two men indulged themselves shamelessly.

And why shouldn’t they? It wouldn’t heal the gaping wounds that the Order’s rigid doctrine had inflicted on their psyches, but it certainly made the pain more bearable.

Food was comfort. Food was happiness. After all that they’d endured, both men had earned the right to that comfort, to that happiness.

The serving drone returned promptly, jarring Obi-Wan from his decidedly morose thoughts. Said drone was laden down heavily with plates, and it occurred to him that perhaps he’d ordered the slightest bit too much.

“Is all of that for us?” One look at Anakin’s delighted expression was all that it took to change his mind – the younger man would never back down from a challenge, especially not one so eminently pleasurable. He’d ordered exactly the right amount.

“Of course,” Obi-Wan replied with amusement - as if there had ever been any doubt. Meals had become an intimate experience that the two men shared with complete exclusivity, audience be damned.

Anakin’s eyes practically lit up with pleasure, digging into the nearest plate with reckless and thoroughly uncivilized abandon. By this point, it seemed that even the façade of self-denial had been abandoned. The older man selected a plate for himself, beginning his meal in a considerably neater fashion that still managed to match his former padawan’s pace.

Watching them eat, no-one would ever guess that the two men had once been Jedi, and frankly they preferred it that way.

-

Bliss. There was no other word for it.

Between mouthfuls of cheese-smothered noodles, Anakin had to remind himself to breathe. Obi-Wan always ordered his favorites, and they were always delicious. At some point, the younger man intended to take a closer look at the programming of Dex’s cooking drones – if they could consistently replicate something this perfect, then the Besalisk was clearly a masterful coder.

Right now, though, all that mattered was dinner. The macaroni and cheese was gone far too quickly, and Anakin resisted the urge to pout. He’d only seen one steak sandwich on their table tonight, and if he wasted time sulking about pasta, Obi-Wan would take it first.

His former master could be startlingly competitive at times, and dinner was one such time. Tonight, Obi-Wan had already started on his second plate of spaghetti, and Anakin knew that the older man was using the Force to keep his meal from becoming overly sloppy.

Not that he’d ever admit to such a “frivolous and unnecessary” use of the Force. Obi-Wan could be an insufferable hypocrite sometimes, and Anakin just wanted to kiss that stubbornness right out of his head. The Jedi were gone - they were free to use their abilities however they damn well pleased.

Speaking of abilities – with a swift tug of the Force, Anakin unfastened his belt. Kriff, he was only halfway through his third helping. How had it already gotten so painfully tight?

It didn’t particularly matter right now. What did matter was getting to that fried dough before Obi-Wan did. Their hands met above the plate, and the two men traded thoroughly satisfied smirks. His former master’s cheeks were already flushed from overindulgence, and there were no words for how kissable his plump, sauce-smeared lips looked right now.

Rather than argue, the two men elected to share the dough, their fingertips brushing between bites of pastry. They rarely spoke while they ate, but they didn’t particularly need to – the bond between them was awash with pleasure, clearly conveying their satisfaction with both the meal and one-another’s company.

A twinge from Obi-Wan’s side of their bond prompted Anakin to raise an eyebrow. They were barely halfway through – surely his former master wasn’t already getting full? He broadcast the teasing implication, only to be met with a solid wall of determination. They were barely halfway through, and the fun was just getting started.

From there, the meal became a blur of pleasure. The building pressure in Anakin’s stomach was possibly the best feeling in the world, and he and Obi-Wan exchanged heated glances between bites of chocolate cake and sips of milkshake. Though they’d never examined it too closely, there was a sensual element to their meals.

As far as Anakin was concerned, they didn’t need to examine it. Sharing the galaxy’s most delicious foods with the man that he loved most? There was no feasible way for the experience to be anything other than pure pleasure.

Sharing a plateful of candied melon slices, Obi-Wan reached out and lazily twined their fingers together – his flush was more prominent now, and the younger man was sure that he looked much the same.

As the last slices of fruit disappeared, his former master finally spoke, a hiccup in his voice. “Another bite, and I'm fairly certain I'll burst. Stars end, I haven't been this full in weeks!” 

“You can’t be finished already,” Anakin protested. “We haven’t even had dessert!”

The confusion was clear on Obi-Wan’s face as he surveyed the collection of empty plates on the table between them. He was fairly certain that they were in fact finished, and that they had in fact eaten dessert.

In lieu of a response, the younger man gestured hopefully in the direction of Dex’s infamous ice cream buffet. There were dozens of unique flavors displayed in open-topped containers, just waiting to be combined in whatever ways that his customers saw fit.

For a moment, Obi-Wan was incredulous. Then, he remembered that his lover was possibly the single most stubborn being in the known galaxy. If Anakin wanted ice cream, he would damn well have it, no matter how excessively he’d already overindulged.

The older man nodded his approval, and his former padawan grinned back, giddy with anticipation. Apparently their meal wasn’t quite finished yet – and Obi-Wan wasn’t about to complain.

-

In this state, Anakin looked truly gorgeous. The younger man was so stuffed that he could scarcely manage to think straight. His eyes were half-lidded with sated bliss, and his mechanical hand was trying unsuccessfully to soothe his aching stomach as he reclined heavily into their threadbare sofa.

The two men had returned from the diner just minutes ago, and his former padawan had truly outdone himself with a downright shocking display of gluttony. Obi-Wan couldn’t help a wry grin at the memory of Dex’s incredulous expression – the Besalisk always encouraged the two men to indulge their appetites, but it was clear that he hadn’t anticipated just how enthusiastically Anakin would decimate his ice cream buffet this evening.

The older man placed his own hand on his former padawan’s stomach, doing what little he could to help soothe the pain. Both men were gaining weight by the day – that much was obvious to any sentient being with functioning eyes – but Anakin had been refusing to buy larger clothing for weeks now.

Sometimes, the younger man’s stubborn denial of his increasing size was a genuine hindrance, and this was one such time. Being stuffed full was an incredibly satisfying feeling, as Obi-Wan would gladly attest, but in clothes as tight as Anakin’s own, the fullness must have been nothing short of torturous.

How his former padawan hadn't torn even a single one of his desperately straining seams, Obi-Wan would never know.

Maintaining an air of casual dignity, the older man loosened his own clothing, wondering if perhaps he should change into a roomier garment for the remainder of the evening.

Anakin just smirked. There was nothing whatsoever dignified about Obi-Wan’s size. His former master had become a soft, sloppy mess – and every inch of that mess was kriffing adorable.

Obi-Wan missed the younger man’s scheming smirk. As such, he was caught completely off guard when Anakin embraced him, biological and mechanical arms wrapping tightly around his ample belly. The younger man proceeded to practically smother himself in that belly, exhaling with pleasure as the decadent softness of it yielded to the weight of his head and chest.

“You’re getting pudgy, old man,” Anakin teased. His voice was muffled against the older man’s body, and punctuated by a groan of discomfort – he was still achingly full of delicious ice cream, and his stomach was protesting how quickly he'd moved.

“Have you looked in a mirror lately?” Obi-Wan retorted, mildly annoyed by such persistent hypocrisy. Nonetheless, he pulled his former padawan even closer, enjoying the way that his hands sunk into the soft rolls of flesh at Anakin’s sides.

A wave of pure affection surged through the bond between them, quite nearly overwhelming in its intensity. Both men shuddered with pleasure as the wave crested once, then twice, then settled into a comfortable frequency, amplifying the sated contentment that had been resounding through said bond all evening long.

Their newfound stability had presented a myriad of complications – but their weight was not among those complications. In the aftermath of the Jedi Order, the two men had found purpose and direction in one another's arms, and every soft inch of their bodies stood as a testament to their happiness. To their love.

In the aftermath of the Jedi Order, the two men weren’t merely alive – they were alive and free.

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a while, and I'm sorry about that. 
> 
> Obikin is 100% my jam, and I sincerely hope I'm not the only one who thinks that chubby Jedi are adorable.
> 
> I'd appreciate your feedback!


End file.
